A Death in the Family
by Nick Wallis
Killed a bike last week. Or noticed it was dying. Suspect it may have been ill for some time. Just ignored the symptoms.
Know my way round a bike. Build wheels. Do all the stuff needed to keep it off the road. Even major component surgery. If I have to. But I'm not a slave to it. Blasé. Wait till it needs it. Then just a bit longer. Which is usually too late. As in this instance. Not that I could have done much. Don't exactly give my bikes a close inspection after a ride. Leave them to dry. Oil any squeaks. Put them away. Clean them? Occasionally. Some of that mud has history. Lots of it. Chip off the worst bits. Just enough to keep things running smoothly. Gets wet enough without throwing buckets of water at it. Not trying to impress sponsors with my cleanliness.
So. It shouldn't surprise me that one has died. I'm not surprised by repairable damage. Why should terminal be any different? Busted wheels. Snapped cables. Worn chainrings. Broken derailleurs. Taken in my stride. All stuff that can be fixed. At least it leaves the frame alone. Even best or broken gear hangers can be fixed. With the right blend of brute strength and ignorance.
Not this time. Downtubes tend to be critical. Noticed cracks in the paint just behind the headtube. Rummaged underneath. Should it be that rippled? Now I believe in gussets. Steepened the head angle. Shortened the wheelbase. Don't know how long it's been like this. Or how it happened. Don't remember hitting anything. Not that it would shorten a frame. Not exactly stunt boy, throwing myself off ramps. Not till the big boys have gone home. Besides, that should lengthen a frame. Great mass + drop from moderate height = force the forks forwards. Nicely. So the cause remains a mystery.
So what am I going to do with it? I can re-use some parts. Put on my surgical mask. Wobble my head a bit like that babe-magnet Dr. Ross. Treat it like a card-carrying donor. Rip the component/organs off. Use them to rebuild some other bike. Hang them on its successor? Whatever. That still leaves the corpse to dispose of. Down to the hardware store for a gallon of acid and some bin liners? File its frame number off and bury it the woods?
That's the answer. Bury it. Next to the dead cats. Why not? Would be the first person to bury a vehicle. Just ask the US Army. There are enough jeeps in the Pacific to build a decent atoll. Closer to home I know of a few dead (motor)bikes buried under some of the local rockeries. So why not? Give the archaeologists something to wonder about. Carbon dating of its steel frame will confirm its creation date at the start of the full-suspension era. Lack of gussetry will further confirm its early 1990s birthdate. Will also be highlighted as possible cause of death. Leaving fat unskilled rider blameless. Perhaps there'll be a reconstruction. 'Artist's impression of late 20th century mountain biker'. Can imagine how that's going to look. Horribly wrong. About a stone underweight.
© 'Uncle' Nick Wallis
Maximum
Mountain Bike, August 1999